 | Argalvs and Parthenia |  |
The Bridegroome now growes weary of his guests:
What mirth of late was pleasing, now molests
His tyred patience: Too much sweet offends;
Sometime, to be forsaken of our friends,
In Cupids moralls, is obseru'd to be
The fruits of friendship, in the best degree.
And thus, at last, the Curtaines being clos'd,
They left them, each, in others armes repos'd.
What mirth of late was pleasing, now molests
His tyred patience: Too much sweet offends;
Sometime, to be forsaken of our friends,
In Cupids moralls, is obseru'd to be
The fruits of friendship, in the best degree.
And thus, at last, the Curtaines being clos'd,
They left them, each, in others armes repos'd.
| Argalvs and Parthenia | |